Touch the Sky

Chapter Three

Delilah checked over her supplies one more time before she began packing them into her saddlebags. She was attempting and failing at concentrating on the task at hand. At the moment, it was hard to focus on anything besides the silly way her horse was behaving. Foster was sitting on a stack of hale bales nearby. And it seemed her dog Remy wasn't the only animal that had taken a liking to the big man. Because Hazel, her favorite horse, was currently nibbling at his long wild hair. He tossed his hair back over his broad shoulders to keep it away from the horse's mouth, stroking his hands over Hazel's head and mane. He touched the animal with more tenderness than Delilah would have thought such a rough looking man capable of. And for a moment her well planned packing was forgotten as she wondered what it might feel like to have his hands on her instead of the horse.

Foster must have felt her eyes on him, because suddenly he was smiling at her instead of her horse. Delilah quickly looked away, turning back to her half packed bags with the color rising in her cheeks and butterflies fluttering somewhere deep inside her body. I must really be hard up for sex, she thought with a silent laugh. Not only was the man big enough to crush her like a bug if he even attempted to bed her, he was injured and probably scared to be so far from his home and his people. This was not the time for a sexual tryst, however tempting having one with someone she'd likely never see again might sound.

"Are you sure you have a horse that can carry me?," he asked, patting Hazel on the shoulder as he pressed his forehead against hers.

"Hazel looks ready to give it her best shot," Delilah teased. Hazel was on the small side for a quarter horse. Which made her perfect for Delilah to ride. But she'd have trouble carrying a man Foster's size very far. "I'm going to saddle up Fergus for you," she explained, pointing further down the barn towards a larger sandy brown horse with a cream colored mane. Fergus was a draft horse cross breed. He was more accustomed to pulling a cart than he was to carrying a rider. But he was a patient and gentle horse. And due to his larger size, he'd have a much easier time schlepping a heavy man up a mountain than the rest of her troop.

Delilah stepped forward, reaching for Hazel's reins. But before she caught hold of the thin leather strap, Foster caught her hand in his. "Thank you," he said, his face lit with the same irresistible smile she'd seen a few minutes before. Delilah reached over, pushing a stray lock of his hair away from his face and fighting the urge to lean in closer.

"Thank me when I get you home safe," she suggested. That made Foster smile again. And he nodded his head as he released his gentle grip on her hand.

A short time later Delilah was leading the way towards the section of her property that backed up into the mountains. Watching Foster mount the large horse with one hand protecting his injured side gave her a rush of panic. But he'd managed to get himself seated without too much of an issue. And now he was riding next to her as Remy rushed ahead, barking at them when he felt like they were taking too long to catch up.

When her husband was still alive, Delilah used to go trail riding up into the woods almost every weekend with him. There was a rustic cabin on the property they frequented. Or sometimes they would pack a tent and sleep under the stars. Delilah always slept better that way than she did at home in her bed.

Foster had never ridden a horse before. The closest he'd come was when he and Asa were still young enough to think that jumping on the goats backs and trying to hold on as long as they could was fun. But Foster was careful not to reveal his level of inexperience to his riding companion. Delilah already seemed nervous enough for this trip. He didn't want to add to her anxiety. And thankfully, Foster found that riding a horse was easy enough. The animal had clearly been trained for such a task. And even wild animals were often soothed by his presence. It had been that way ever since he was a child.

As they made their way through the pasture, Foster admired the herd of fluffy long horned cattle that was grazing on the other side of the fence. He'd been to town before. But only to the town part of town, where there were stores to raid. He'd never seen the more rural part of Blackburg before. Truthfully, he had no idea low landers lived like this. If he wasn't so desperate to get home and stop his father from doing something even more reckless, he might have taken Delilah up on her offer to stay until his injury healed. It wasn't the mountain. But it was still a beautiful place.

Foster liked Delilah's house, but he was more impressed with all her animals. There were horses and cows. He'd seen a few pigs. And while he hadn't seen them, he was sure he heard ducks and chickens and maybe even a few geese. The animals were not being kept in small cages or neglected in the despicable way he'd been told low-landers treated their livestock. Though some of these animals would no doubt end up roasting over someone's fire one day, he could tell they were well loved.

Even though they started in a much different location from the path he usually took up and down the mountain, things soon started to feel more familiar to him. Delilah stopped at a cabin a few miles up, only poking inside long enough to retrieve a hunting rifle and a bag he assumed contained ammunition for the gun. Foster tried to hide his grin as she mounted her horse with the weapon slung across her back. The gun was nearly as big as she was.

"There's wolves up here," she said, explaining her reason for stopping to retrieve the weapon. Foster nodded. There were definitely wolves on the mountain. But this time of year, he was more worried about bears than anything else. "Do you need to stop for a break?," she asked, scanning her observant eyes over him as she checked for signs of discomfort. Foster shook his head. His side hurt. But it wasn't likely to feel any better resting on the ground than it did sitting on a horse. And they were keeping a slow enough pace that the movement of the animal under him wasn't pulling or tugging at his side.

"Getting on this horse was the worst part," he admitted. "I've no wish to climb back down until we're ready to stop for the night." Delilah nodded her understanding.

They picked their way carefully up the mountain, heading at a sort of rough diagonal towards his home. They were still heading up, but also to the side. His hope was that they would eventually cross the main pathway that led down into town from his village. Not only would it be easier to follow a more cleared path up, his kin often kept watch over the road. And once they were spotted, his cousins could come down with some wheels and drive him the rest of the way home. The thought of that filled him with mixed emotions. Foster was eager to get home. But maybe not as eager to say goodbye to the woman riding beside him. There might not be much physical distance between Delilah's home and his. But they were still from two different worlds. He knew he might never see her again after this trip.

They spoke a little as they rode, each conversation fading into comfortable silence as the sounds of the mountain rose around them. The path they were taking grew narrow, forcing them to ride single file for a stretch. Foster rode behind her, his eyes lingering on the way her long dark hair moved slightly in the breeze. Her thighs hugged the sides of her saddle, moving her hips in time with her horse. As he watched, a white butterfly fluttered towards her. Delilah lifted her hand, letting it land softly on the tip of her outstretched finger. It stayed there a moment, its wings fluttering closed before it fluttered back into the air. The path split in front of them. And he noticed that Delilah steered her horse in the direction the butterfly took without question. Around the next bend, the treeline opened up into a small grassy meadow. A stream of clear clean water ran along one side of it.

"This looks like a good spot to camp for the night," Delilah said, glancing back to gauge his reaction. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky. But they still had a few hours of light left. However, there was no guarantee that they were going to reach the road tonight. And even though the mountain was his home, Foster still had no desire to be wandering around on it in the dark. They weren't going to find a better spot than this to set up camp.

"It does," he agreed. Delilah smiled at him, her blue green eyes sparkling in the fading light.

Delilah gripped the saddle and swung her leg over her horse, dropping almost soundlessly to the ground. Her dismount made it look easy. Foster's was not so graceful. He didn't have as far to jump. But he also wasn't prepared for the weird wobbly feeling in his legs when he landed. He heard Delilah suck in a hard breath when he dropped to one knee, clutching his injured side.

"I'm okay," he assured her. Still she scurried over and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

At her insistence, he sat and sipped on a plastic bottle of water while she unpacked her bag and set up camp. Remy kept him company, his long pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as lay in the grass as Foster's side. Foster felt guilty. Even though he was injured, it still didn't feel right allowing a woman to do all the heavy lifting. But he was surprised by how quickly and efficiently Delilah got the campsite together. A tarp went down first, to keep the bottom of the tent dry. The tent popped up and snapped together. Delilah tossed her bags inside it and hobbled her horses. That way they could move freely to the water and back to graze but she didn't need to worry about them running away.

Before long they were leaning back against the saddles, warming their feet by the small fire she started. Soup was warming in a funny looking pot that was completely flat when she pulled it from her bag and popped it open. She made the soup by dipping the pot into the creek for some water and dumping a bag of dehydrated ingredients into that. It smelled better than he expected. And Foster fought the urge to thank her again for everything she was doing for him.

"I've never been this high up before," Delilah said, her eyes focused on the sky above them. "It's beautiful. I can see why you like it up here." Foster smiled. He loved the mountain. But his people grew up living on it. He'd never had the opportunity to enjoy anyone's reaction to seeing it for the first time before. It made him wish Delilah could stay and visit, though he knew The Brennan would never allow such a thing. There were lots of spots more picturesque than this meadow that he would show her if he could.

With their soup cooled and consumed, they climbed into the tent. Without the sunshine to warm it, the air was cooling rapidly. Foster was grateful for the shirt Delilah climbed up into her attic to find. It wasn't something he would usually wear. But it was large enough for him, having belonged to Delilah's former father in law who apparently was about his size in girth if not in height. With that and the large sleeping bag, Foster was almost too warm. But he noticed the same could not be said for Delilah. She was shifting uncomfortably, tugging her sleeping bag tighter around her to try and warm her body. Both bags were the type that were large enough for two people, so she was unable to really get it tight enough around her small body to lock the heat in.

Foster shifted his body slowly, being mindful of his injured side. There wasn't much room between them in the small camping tent. But he closed it by grasping Delilah's bag and tugging until her small body was pressed against his. Foster wrapped an arm around her, trying to lend her some of his body heat despite the layers of sleeping bag material between them.

"You'd warm up faster if you'd get into this bag with me," he said. He wasn't sure if the offer was appropriate or not. But after everything she'd done for him, he'd be damned if he was just going to lay there and listen to her teeth chatter. When she didn't respond right away, he added, "...I won't do anything else. I just don't want you to be cold."

The speed with which Delilah jerked down her sleeping bag zipper and climbed into his instead made him chuckle. Foster wrapped his arms around her, letting her tuck herself in against his chest. Despite his promise that he wouldn't do anything but hold her, he wasn't able to stop the heat that flooded his groin. She still smelled of citrus, though the smell of smoke from their campfire nearly overwhelmed it. Her hair was thick and silky soft. And since he was holding her close, he was able to run his hands down over it. As her muscles slowly warmed and relaxed, she snuggled in closer to him. When he felt her hike one shapely leg up and over his hip, it took every ounce of willpower inside him not to flip her onto her back and settle himself between her parted thighs. Just the thought of it was making his dick throb and twitch under his kilt. And given that it was proportionate in size to the rest of his body, he was starting to become nervous that Delilah would shift her body wrong and feel the intensity of his arousal.

Foster rolled onto his back, tucking her into his side instead of his chest. Her leg slid as he moved, leaving it draped across his leg instead of hiked over his hip. She rested her head on his chest, letting out a soft sigh of satisfaction. The noise sent another rush of heat to his manhood. And when she shifted her body again, the brush of her thigh across him was almost enough to make him come right then and there. Thankfully, it didn't take her long to fall asleep. And then her body went still, her chest rising and falling in a slow steady rhythm. It took him a little longer, with both the wound on his side and his aching balls causing him discomfort. But listening to her soft breaths calmed him. And before he knew it, Foster had followed her into her dreams.